Handcuffs
by Mijan
Summary: An accident in charms class leaves Harry and Draco handcuffed together for 24 hours. If they manage to get through the day, and the night, without killing each other will they ever be the same? (Slash H/D)
1. Minor Accidents

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter. I am not making any money from this. I'm doing it for the sheer joy of writing, and the need for a few good laughs. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy writing it!  
  
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HANDCUFFS, Chapter 1  
  
"WHAT?" Harry and Draco yelled at the same time.  
  
Professor Flitwick, for one, didn't look the slightest bit ruffled. In fact, he almost seemed mildly amused. "I said there's nothing I can do. I'm amazed, but Neville's locking charm is exemplary, if a little bit over- enthusiastic."  
  
"Enthusiastic?" Harry choked. "ENTHUSIASTIC? That's what you're calling it?"  
  
"Well, I'd say compared to his endeavors of the past, this is exceptional performance for him. Even the twenty-four hour timing charm was perfectly included." Flitwick was almost beaming.  
  
Harry glared at the tiny professor, then over Flitwick's shoulder at Neville, who was seemed simultaneously embarrassed and scared. He had a reason to be scared; Harry was seriously considering killing Neville just then. Strangely, that would have put him in agreement with Malfoy, possibly for the first time in his natural existence. Malfoy, however, was also the second person he wanted to exterminate at the moment. Unlike Neville, who Harry could simply ignore until the heated bloodlust subsided, Malfoy was stuck just a little bit closer to Harry.  
  
Yanking his left fist into the air, Harry also dragged Draco's right hand aloft, eliciting a protest from the other boy, which Harry ignored. Joining their wrists was a shiny pair of handcuffs. "This is NOT a classroom experiment!" He shook his fist to emphasize his words. "I'm handcuffed to Malfoy! You've got to do something about this!"  
  
Draco jerked the cuffs roughly, pulling Harry slightly off-balance. "It could be worse," he sneered. "I'm handcuffed to you. This is revolting."  
  
Harry turned towards Draco, pulling the cuffs hard to the side. "Shut up, Malfoy. Your slimy Slytherin arse is the last thing I want to be stuck with right now."  
  
"At least my arse is a fair sight prettier, you pathetic little prat," he spat.  
  
"If you like your arse so much, why don't you bend over and kiss it goodbye before I strangle you?"  
  
"Boys! Please!" Professor Flitwick was hopping up and down waving his hands frantically. "Let's not have a fight over nothing, shall we? This is only temporary. Here, go down to Dumbledore's office. You'll need to make arrangements for the night."  
  
Both the boys looked as though they'd been punched in the stomach. Draco spoke first. "For the night?"  
  
"Well yes," Flitwick replied simply. "You are going to be stuck together overnight, you see..."  
  
"I am NOT sleeping in the same room as Malfoy!" Harry howled.  
  
"You could always use a severing charm to remove your hand, Potter." Draco glanced down along the length of his nose. "Besides, with your chewed-up fingernails, you might be doing yourself a favour."  
  
"How about I do everyone a favour and use that severing charm on your neck, Malfoy?"  
  
"Boys!" Flitwick jumped in again. "I'll let professor Dumbledore know you're on your way up, so he'll be expecting you. Please, try not to kill each other on the way there."  
  
Harry muttered something under his breath that included the phrase "...hide the body..."  
  
He glanced across the room at Ron and Hermione. Ron was looking utterly mortified at the prospect of being stuck to Malfoy, and seemed as though he was ready to kill the Slytherin for Harry. Hermione's face was pinched with worry. The sound of cracking knuckles from the other side of the room pulled Harry's attention to Crabbe and Goyle, who were both flexing their massive arms as though preparing to remove Harry's hand themselves... manually. Pansy Parkinson was wrinkling up her nose and scowling. With a quick glance back at his friends, Harry nodded to try to reassure them that he'd be fine, although he wasn't quite sure that was true.  
  
Steeling his jaw, he suddenly spun towards the door, whipping Malfoy around and half-dragging the other boy behind him.  
  
"Watch yourself, Potter!" Malfoy hissed as he steadied his stride. "Don't try anything stupid."  
  
With another harsh tug on the cuffs, while brushing his right hand against his wand, Harry snarled back, "Stupid, like letting you live through this?"  
  
Behind them, the door to Professor Flitwick's classroom slammed shut.  
  
"No, stupid, like this." Draco pulled his cuffed hand across his body, dragging Harry directly into his path, allowing Draco to jam an elbow into Harry's ribs.  
  
"Ouch! You insufferable bastard!" Harry cursed as he resumed his stride, shooting looks of pure venom at Draco. "What the deuce is wrong with you? Cut the crap and maybe Dumbledore can get us out of this mess. I don't need to be stuck with you any longer than necessary."  
  
The boys were plainly putting as much distance as possible between them as they walked.  
  
"For once, Potter, I'm almost inclined to agree with you," he sniffed as the boys began making their way up the main staircase towards Dumbledore's office. "Not that I have all that much faith in Dumbledore's ability to fix anything."  
  
"Don't you talk about Dumbledore like that, Malfoy!" Harry balled his fist and swung it sharply into Draco's wrist, simultaneously hitting Draco with the cuff as well.  
  
"I'll talk about that incompetent Mudblood lover any way I damn well feel," Draco growled. "And don't you touch me, Potter. I don't need your Mudblood contaminated body coming in contact with mine. You might not have washed your hands since you last touched Granger."  
  
"THAT'S IT!" Harry roared as he launched himself on Draco, swinging. His fist connected solidly with Draco's temple with a satisfying thud. Harry's satisfaction was short-lived as a fist crashed into the side of his own jaw, stunning him for a split second. As fast as he could blink, he brought his arm up and ran straight forward, shoving Draco hard against the wall and jamming his forearm tightly against his opponent's neck, temporarily pinning him. Draco's foot shot out and caught Harry in the side of the knee, sending a wave of pain up his leg. He grabbed Harry's shirt and made to swing Harry around and shove him against the wall, but he was caught in the momentum by the awkward handcuffs, the motion caused the boys to overbalance.  
  
Harry saw the look of shock and terror racing across Draco's face, and was quite certain it mirrored his own as he felt himself tip over backwards and begin tumbling down the stairs. Their pained yells mixed indistinguishably as they collided with every step, and each other, the entire way down the flight, cracking elbows, knees, and heads against hard stone stairs and soft flesh. Finally, the boys came to a crashing halt at the bottom of the stairway.  
  
From somewhere in the haphazard tangle of limbs and damaged body parts, a faint moan escaped and a tousled blond head of hair moved slightly. The boys had landed more or less side by side, with Draco's shoulder crushing Harry's arm, and Harry's legs thrown over Malfoy's. Draco moaned again and tried to get up, but his body seemed to protest the attempt. He reached over carefully and prodded the boy next to him, but received no response. Another prod, no reaction. "Potter?"  
  
Harry's ears were ringing loudly, and nothing in the world could possibly add to a headache more effectively than Malfoy's voice. Slowly, he opened his eyes to receive a very blurry view of Draco's face, much closer than he ever would have appreciated. Attempting vainly to ignore the headache and the nausea, he squinted at Draco and whispered hoarsely, "I'm going to kill you."  
  
He couldn't quite hear Draco's reply. In the background, he thought he heard a man's voice yelling in anxiety, rapidly approaching footsteps, but even that wasn't quite penetrating the fog around his brain. The blood was rushing loudly in his ears, while sound and sight and even the sense of touch began to feel distant and detached. The last thought he had before he passed out was the sweet notion of wrapping his hands around Malfoy's neck and ripping his throat out.  
  
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	2. Dinner Conversation

HANDCUFFS: Chapter 2  
  
Harry awoke to a splitting headache. It was no wonder, after such a miserable dream that night. Handcuffed to Malfoy! The thought almost made his stomach turn. No time for that, of course, he was probably late for breakfast. Ron and Hermione would be waiting for him. Harry rolled over in bed, or tried to, but he hadn't moved more than five centimeters before something tight around his wrist stopped him cold. He pulled again. Still stuck.  
  
"Potter, if you pull my wrist one more time, I'm going to make sure you don't wake up for the rest of the day." The drawling voice grated on Harry's ears.  
  
With a sinking sensation, Harry pulled his eyes opened. He was lying in a cot in the infirmary. Madam Pomfrey was bustling around his bed, prodding him with her wand at various places as the aches and pains from his limbs disappeared, and Dumbledore was standing at the end of his cot, looking rather... amused. None of this, however, was important, considering the other person in the room, Draco Malfoy, who was still handcuffed to his left hand, lying on the cot next to his.  
  
"Mr. Malfoy!" Madam Pomfrey snapped. "The two of you already caused enough damage to each other. If you start anything in here, and this goes for you too, Mr. Potter, I will personally make your lives even more miserable than they already seem to be." With that, she picked up a tray of ointments and potions and walked swiftly from the room.  
  
Draco muttered something about it being utterly impossible to be more miserable than he already was.  
  
Ignoring him, Harry turned to Dumbledore, who hadn't moved, and was still looking at him with that same amused expression. "Professor Dumbledore, sir! I'm sure you can get us out of this! I mean, it's just a little locking charm, right? Surely, you can..." He was cut off as Dumbledore shook his head slowly.  
  
"Ah, Harry," he began with a slight chuckle, "it's not merely a simple locking charm. Neville did an exceptional job; I examined the charm myself. This is the type of lock used on vaults in Gringotts, and various other high-security locations. It's a timed charm, as you know. You were practicing the same thing, were you not?"  
  
Harry nodded, not wanting to hear what would come next.  
  
"Then if you read the theory behind this particular charm, you would know that tampering with a timed locking charm before the time period is over will cause it to explode."  
  
Harry felt himself go several shades paler. At that same moment, Draco lunged and started pulling ferociously at the cuffs. "I'LL TAKE MY CHANCES!" he yelled. "Get this thing off of me!"  
  
In a heartbeat, Dumbledore had stepped between the cots and had firmly separated the boys. All traces of amusement were gone from his expression and his eyes shone furiously as he spoke, "If either of you two fight, just once, while you are stuck together, I will find a punishment for each of you the likes of which you can not possibly imagine."  
  
Draco flopped back onto his pillow sullenly. "Nothing could be worse than this."  
  
"Oh no?" Dumbledore eyed him, a hint of the twinkle returning. "I do believe that Hagrid plans to be teaching about manticores in Care of Magical Creatures next week. I'm sure he could use someone to help him clean out the cages."  
  
Draco, who had now also lost all the colour in his face, seemed to be choking on something. "I... I... you can't be serious?"  
  
"I am quite serious, Mr. Malfoy."  
  
"What about Potter?" he sneered, jerking his head at Harry. "I'm sure he'd get off easy."  
  
"Ah, I am certain he would not be too happy with a month of detention with Professor Snape. When last we spoke, our Potions Master informed me that he would be receiving several large shipments of supplies over the next two weeks, and it will take him at least twice as long to put it all away." He peered over the tops of his spectacles at Harry.  
  
"You... you wouldn't..." Harry whispered.  
  
Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "Do you really want to find out?"  
  
For a brief, insane moment, Harry seriously considered taking his chances with the exploding handcuffs. Seeing the look in Dumbledore's face, however, he decided that perhaps this wasn't the best time to push his luck. Taking a deep breath, he spoke slowly and deliberately, "Professor, what am I, er, we supposed to do for the next twenty-four hours?"  
  
The twinkle fully returned to Dumbledore's eye. "I would suggest that you learn to get along with one another. Tomorrow is Saturday, so you need not worry about attending classes."  
  
"But where will we sleep?" Draco suddenly blurted out. "We can't... I mean... I won't..."  
  
"Mr. Malfoy, I will make the necessary arrangements for that. House dormitories are for members of a given house only. The two of you will require your own room for the night."  
  
Draco turned a bit green. "Me? Alone in a room with . . . with Potter?" he stammered.  
  
Harry turned his head to the boy lying next to him. Despite his own severe qualms about spending a night alone with Malfoy, this was almost funny, watching him squirm like this. "Scared, Malfoy?"  
  
Draco's head snapped over to glare at Harry. In a lowered tone, he said, "You wish."  
  
Harry raised his eyebrows in a perfect imitation of Dumbledore's amused expression. "Whatever you say, Malfoy." He turned back to the Headmaster. "Sir, what are we supposed to do now?"  
  
"It is time for supper." Dumbledore inclined his head slightly. "The two of you will be joining your classmates in the Great Hall for supper."  
  
"He is NOT sitting at the Slytherin table!" Draco sat bolt upright, half- pulling Harry along with him.  
  
Harry sat the rest of the way up and reached across to rub his wrist, which was aching from the harsh tug, while glowering furiously at Draco. Then, in what appeared to be a flash of inspiration, the scowl turned into a devious grin. "Okay then. You can sit at the Gryffindor table."  
  
With that, Harry jumped off the bed and began walking stoically towards the infirmary exit, dragging the Slytherin behind him. Draco, who had been too surprised by the sudden action to protest immediately, suddenly began to look very frantic.  
  
"I can't! I can't be seen at the Gryffindor table! That would be intolerable!" He looked back over his shoulder as Harry continued to haul him forwards. "Professor Dumbledore! You can't possibly let him do this!"  
  
Dumbledore folded his arms across his chest, smiled at the retreating pair, and called out after them. "Just remember, no fighting!"  
  
Harry ignored Draco's protests all the way from the hospital wing to the entrance of the Great Hall. Despite his smaller size, Harry found that he was able to drag the Slytherin easily enough, and took a great deal of amusement in listening to the panic in Draco's voice. He didn't seem so tough now, without his trollish henchmen on his flanks, and that was just how Harry liked it. This was going to be a very entertaining supper.  
  
Turning the corner into the foyer that led to the Great Hall, Harry could see a steady stream of students wending their way to supper. However, it was at the first sight of this flood of people that Draco's panic hit a feverish pitch.  
  
"I can't do it! I'm not going to do it!" He dug his heels into the floor as best he could and his free hand latched onto the edge of the banister, bringing both of them to a grinding stop. He took a rushed breath and forced some control back into his voice, despite how nervous he still was. "Listen, Potter. I will NOT sit at your little Gryffindor table for supper, just to spend the time being harassed by you. Nor do I wish to be seen with the Mudblood and the Weasel..."  
  
Harry took a sharp, threatening step towards Draco, almost pinning him against the banister. "YOU listen, Malfoy! If I hear that word out of your mouth ONCE more while we're stuck together, I would wholeheartedly take an entire year of detention with Snape just for the pleasure of beating your face into a pulp. Do you understand me?"  
  
His eye were blazing green fury, the corner of his jaw clenched tightly, muscles on his neck standing out unnaturally. Despite being a few centimeters shorter, for that brief moment, it was obvious that Harry had completely overpowered Draco.  
  
Draco shrank back against the banister, wanting to put as much distance between himself and Harry as possible, which wasn't much. Strangely, he found himself at a lack of words.  
  
"I SAID do you UNDERSTAND me?" Harry repeated, emphasizing his words as though speaking to a small child who was in a lot of trouble.  
  
It was all Draco could do to nod.  
  
"Good. Now listen up. I'm going to go have supper with my friends. HERMIONE and RON. You'd do well to get their names right. Granger and Weasley, if you must. I don't care if you sit there and sulk the entire time. It's not my problem. I can do quite nicely to ignore you. You can either whine and continue to make a miserable fool out of yourself, which will only give me something else to laugh at when this is all over, or you can shut up and behave like an adult. Believe me, I'm no happier about this than you are."  
  
Draco stared at the floor. "Okay, you've made your point." His head snapped up. "Just eat fast, will you?"  
  
"Why? You're not going to eat?"  
  
"I've lost my appetite, for obvious reasons, Potter," he growled. "You've got what you want. We're going in there, and I'm going to sit at the bloody Gryffindor table. Let's just get this humiliation over with."  
  
With a curt nod, Harry turned on his heel and strode off towards the Hall entrance. This time, Draco fell into step quickly enough that he didn't nearly fall over.  
  
There were whispers and giggles as the boys stepped into the Great Hall. Draco could feel his ears burning red, but Harry didn't pay the least bit of attention to all the commotion. He was quite accustomed to people staring at him, and although he didn't much like it, he knew how to deal with it. Making a beeline for Ron and Hermione, he quickly lowered himself into a seat across from the two of them. Draco hesitated, but with a sigh of resignation, took up a seat to Harry's left.  
  
"Harry!" Hermione greeted him. "We were so worried! I heard what happened." She glowered at Draco, who returned the expression with a sneer.  
  
"I heard the bloke tried to throw you down the stairs, and was too stupid to realize that he was still stuck to you. Are you all right, Harry?"  
  
"Aside from this disgusting growth I seem to have accumulated, I'm fine."  
  
Draco shot him a glare, but Harry ignored him completely and instead began helping himself to the food with his right hand. "Besides," he continued, "it'll be over in about twenty hours. I can survive until then. I may have to soak myself in disinfectant, but I'll survive."  
  
"You watch it, Potter..."  
  
"Wasn't there anything Dumbledore could do? Surely he could...?" Hermione wrung her hands nervously, flicking her eyes briefly at Draco.  
  
"I asked, Hermione. If he could have, I'm sure he would have fixed it." Harry gritted his teeth. "He said that if we tamper with a timed locking charm, it's liable to explode, and I'm kinda fond of my hand, you know."  
  
Ron eyed Draco warily for a moment. "You know, I think I'd risk it. Madam Pomfrey can fix almost anything, you know."  
  
"Don't think I wasn't tempted. I'm still considering it."  
  
Draco looked down at his hand as though it was going to blow up at any second.  
  
"Are you going to flatten him, Harry?" Ron asked hopefully. "I can help. He doesn't look so tough without Crabbe and Goyle around."  
  
Draco glanced desperately over his shoulder to the Slytherin table, and caught sight of Crabbe and Goyle, both of whom were staring at his desperately as though to ask, "What the hell do you want us to do?" It was a tempting thought to just wave them over and turn them loose on the annoyance to whom he was handcuffed, but instead, Draco shook his head slowly. Goyle's jaw dropped in shock and Crabbe slumped dejectedly as Draco turned his head back to the Gryffindor table, not really letting himself see any of it.  
  
"No Ron, we're not going to flatten him," Harry finally answered his friend with a definite tone of disappointment. "Doesn't mean he doesn't bloody well deserve it, of course, but Dumbledore promised me a month detention with Snape if I get into a fight with this prat, so why make a bad situation worse? Right now, I'm starving, so let's ignore it, ok?"  
  
"Ignore it?" Ron asked incredulously. "You're handcuffed to Draco-bloody- Malfoy! How can you ignore it?"  
  
Harry took a large bit out of a roll and spoke around the mouthful. "Easily. Pass the potatoes."  
  
Ron seemed more than a little bit skeptical, but finally conceded and passed Harry the potatoes. The meal passed slowly, and the tension at the table was obvious to everyone, creating much less amusement than Harry had hoped for. The other Gryffindors gave the group a wide berth, and conversation was carefully regulated, with the presence of a Slytherin in their midst. The whole time, Draco said nothing, didn't move, staring sullenly at the table in front of him.  
  
As people started to filter from the Great Hall, a few of them greeted Harry with looks of sympathy. Draco wasn't watching them, but he knew they were staring. He could feel it on the back of his neck, and it was damned uncomfortable. He wasn't used to being a spectacle, that's for sure. For a brief moment, he let himself wonder how the hell Potter could stand it, getting stared at all the time, but he buried the thought as quickly as it had come. Now, he was being stared at, and Potter was receiving looks of sympathy because of him, as though he were a terrible disease Potter had contracted. Where were his looks of sympathy? Wasn't it just as terrible that he was stuck with the bloody Gryffindor as for Potter to be stuck with him? He hadn't asked for this either.  
  
He was just wondering when the torture was going to end when he felt someone standing behind his back. Turning around at the same time as Harry, the boys looked up at Dumbledore, who was standing solemnly with his hands folded into the sleeves of his robe.  
  
"I trust your supper was acceptable?" he greeted them.  
  
"Wonderful," Harry smiled with a false but very convincing levity.  
  
"Just ducky," Draco sulked.  
  
"Very good then." If Dumbledore had caught the undertones from the boys, he completely ignored it. "If you will both follow me now, I will show you to the room I've arranged for you."  
  
Suddenly, Draco decided that staying right there at the Gryffindor table wasn't such a bad option. There were people around, and if Potter decided to kill him, there would be witnesses.  
  
Harry glanced across the table at Ron and Hermione in turn, as though begging for them to do something. Even as he did, he knew that there was nothing they could do. With a meaningful nod, he let them know it was going to be okay, even though he wasn't quite sure of that himself. Ron didn't look the slightest bit convinced, and Hermione was once again wringing her hands, but they both nodded in return.  
  
Slowly, both of the boys stood and followed Dumbledore out of the hall.  
  
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A/N: Did you read it? Please review it! Only takes a second.  
  
I should have more of this story ready in a couple of days. I'm working on two larger stories as well at the moment, and can't put all my time into just this one. Thanks for reading! 


	3. Room for the Night

"Sir," Harry asked hesitantly, once they had exited the Great Hall, "What are we supposed to do while we're stuck like this? I mean, all night?"  
  
Dumbledore did not look back as he walked. "Perhaps you might catch up on your homework."  
  
"But it's a Saturday night!" Harry protested.  
  
"Our potions master informed me today that you seem to be struggling with your current lesson, Harry."  
  
At this, Draco, who had been almost silent save for his gloomy greeting to Dumbledore, began to snicker loudly. Harry elbowed him in the ribs.  
  
Dumbledore continued, "You might wish to spend some time catching up with some extra practice and study."  
  
Draco snickered even louder. Harry glowered at him.  
  
"And seeing as Draco is one of Professor Snape's better potions students, the professor suggested that he assist you with your studies."  
  
Draco choked and half-tripped over his own two feet. "It's not my fault if this prat can't handle his own lessons! I see no reason to assist him."  
  
Harry didn't seem any more impressed with the solution than Draco. "I don't want his help."  
  
Dumbledore came to a halt at the bottom of the stairwell. "It would seem to me then, that you are both wasting a valuable opportunity."  
  
"Valuable?" Harry echoed vaguely.  
  
"Most assuredly," Dumbledore said solemnly. "There are dark times, as I'm sure you're both aware. I would remind you that the hate which is so characteristic of these days is largely due to ignorance."  
  
Draco sniffed haughtily, immediately seeing where Dumbledore was taking this topic. "I am perfectly content to remain ignorant of Potter."  
  
Dumbledore raised an eyebrow with a hint of amusement. "I'm sure you will both find yourselves learning many things about each other tonight."  
  
Harry scowled. "And just what am I supposed to learn about Malfoy? The colour of his underwear and his favourite flavour of toothpaste?"  
  
"That wouldn't be a bad start," the headmaster said simply.  
  
Both boys' jaws dropped simultaneously. "No way..." Harry stuttered.  
  
"Not a bloody chance," Draco echoed.  
  
Dumbledore, however, ignored them entirely and began climbing the staircase. "I requested that the house elves bring up your books and other academic supplies, and they should already have seen to retrieving your night clothes."  
  
Draco froze mid-step, jerking Harry backwards and almost causing them both to fall down the stairs again.  
  
"What's your bloody problem this time?" Harry groaned, flexing his wrist, which was becoming increasingly sore.  
  
Dumbledore continued to climb the stairs sedately.  
  
"I am NOT getting dressed in front of Potter!" Draco bellowed at the back of Dumbledore's head.  
  
Harry certainly agreed with that sentiment. He didn't particularly want to see Draco either... but the opportunity for a random insult was too good to miss. "Why Malfoy? Ashamed of something? Or possibly lack of something?"  
  
Before Draco could reply, Harry had resumed tugging him up the stairs, trying to catch up with Dumbledore.  
  
"I'll have you know, Potter," Draco hissed as he trotted alongside Harry, "That I have ABSOLUTELY nothing to be ashamed of!"  
  
"Sure," Harry snickered.  
  
"However, the skinny little runt that you are, this ought to be a laugh to see."  
  
Harry's face blossomed in crimson, giving the distinct impression that he was about to explode. "I'LL HAVE YOU KNOW...!"  
  
"Gentlemen?" Dumbledore's voice interrupted then, echoing from the corridor above. "I do hope you're not fighting over something as silly as pajamas."  
  
Harry and Draco exchanged brief looks of incredulity before anger once again broke through on Harry's face and he hauled Draco the rest of the way up the stairs at a jog.  
  
"Ouch! My wrist! You'd better be more careful about that, Potter, or I'll..."  
  
"Or you'll what, Mr. Malfoy?" Dumbledore asked innocently as they approached him.  
  
Draco scowled as they arrived in front of the headmaster. "Nothing."  
  
"Indeed," Dumbledore responded. "This is your room for the night." He indicated the oak door beside him with the shiny brass knob. "You must be in your room by 9:00, same rules as would apply if you were in your dormitory. I need not remind you to refrain from fighting overnight." He paused for a response.  
  
"Yes, professor," the boys said automatically, if not enthusiastically.  
  
"Very good, because I will know if you have fought. And now, goodnight." He turned to go.  
  
"Wait a minute!" Draco yelled at once, suddenly looking as panicky as Harry felt. "You're not just going to leave us here, are you?"  
  
"Professor," Harry said, feeling his own heart start to thud nervously in her chest. "I mean, anything could happen!"  
  
Without turning back around, Dumbledore glanced over his shoulder. "Is there any reason I should be expecting something to happen?"  
  
Harry opened his mouth, looking for a response to that, but came up with nothing. He slowly shook his head. "No sir."  
  
"Then goodnight."  
  
The boys stood frozen as Dumbledore retreated down the corridor and disappeared from sight. When his footsteps finally faded away after him, Draco was the first to move, grabbing the doorknob and pushing open the door with an irritable shove. The boys moved timidly into the room, as though some unseen predator was waiting for them in a corner. Of course, what actually had them worried was the potential predator at the other end of the handcuffs.  
  
The room was pleasant enough. Two squashy armchairs and a small, low table sat in front of a fireplace, where a fire crackled merrily on the hearth. The house elves had apparently done their job and had placed two book bags on the table. The room was softened by a tapestry of a dragon on the far wall, a rich burgundy throw rug, and a couple of simple landscape paintings. All in all, it wasn't a bad room, save for the centerpiece. Two twin beds, pushed much closer together than either boy wanted to see, sat waiting for them. One had been made up with a green Slytherin blanket, and the other was in rich Gryffindor scarlet.  
  
"All the bloody comforts of him," Draco said dryly.  
  
Harry snorted and began dragging Draco towards the armchairs. If nothing else, homework could make a decent distraction.  
  
"Wait a minute, Potter," Draco held him up.  
  
"What the hell do you want now?" Harry asked impatiently. Why couldn't this lout just leave him along and make this whole thing as painless as possible?  
  
"The beds." Draco was studying the sleeping arrangements critically.  
  
"What about them?" Harry snapped.  
  
"They're backwards."  
  
"Malfoy, what are you talking about?" The Gryffindor bed, obviously Harry's, was on the right, which was ideal, as Harry preferred to sleep sprawled on his stomach or side.  
  
""With the beds like that, I'd have to sleep on my stomach," Draco sniffed.  
  
"So what?" Harry made another move for the armchairs, only to be held up again.  
  
"I can't sleep on my stomach," Draco explained as though he expected the world to stop and take notice. "It would smush my face into the pillow and that's not good for one's skin." He eyed Harry. "Apparently, you do sleep on your stomach. Terrible pores."  
  
Harry covered his nose, suddenly embarrassed, but removed his hand just as quickly with a smirk. "Studying my face that closely, Malfoy? Very interesting."  
  
Now it was Draco's turn to feel heat rise in his cheeks, and his expression only served to encourage Harry.  
  
"I'm sure you do complete facials every night, Malfoy," he smirked. "I wonder if the house elves remembered to bring up your avocado-cucumber mask. Do you do manicures too?" Harry pulled Draco's right hand up by the handcuffs to get a peek at the nails, which were indeed properly trimmed and filed, before Draco could react.  
  
Draco whipped his hand down, glowering. "Shut up, Potter, and help me change these beds around." He took a step towards the green bed, but Harry stopped him. "They're fine the way they are! Now, if you don't mind..."  
  
"But I can't sleep on my stomach!"  
  
"DEAL WITH IT!" Harry began stoically tugging him towards the armchairs again. "I'm doing some homework!"  
  
Draco pulled hard on the cuffs, almost yanking Harry on top of him, but sidestepping at the last split second. He smirked as Harry regained his composure, then said, in his best authoritative tone, "We're fixing the beds."  
  
Harry drew himself up as tall as he could, which almost, but not quite, put him nose to nose with Draco. "I am not your servant," he said, carefully punctuating every word. "AND I SAID NO!"  
  
Draco was not accustomed to the word "no." He spent every day with Crabbe and Goyle, his perfectly trained Pavlovian goons. Too shocked from having Harry contradict him so strongly to his face, he let himself be dragged to the waiting armchairs.  
  
Harry plopped himself down and began digging through his bag for his inkwell and parchment. Divination. He could do his Divination assignment without having to think too much. The concentration required for Potions was out of the questions, due to the very large distraction sitting sullenly in the chair next to his. He had just unfolded his chart for interpreting prophetic dreams when the Distraction made itself even more distracting.  
  
"You're supposed to be doing Potions."  
  
Harry turned to Draco, who was slouched deep into the chair. "Just so you can gloat about how miserable my work in that class is? I don't think so. All I'm supposed to be doing is homework... and keeping myself from strangling you. Potions was just a suggestion, not an order. Besides, you're not doing anything," he observed. "You can't possibly tell me you've done all your homework.  
  
Draco mumbled something.  
  
"What's that?" Harry said loudly, cupping his right ear with his hand and leaning closer for emphasis. "Can't hear you. Must be going a bit deaf!"  
  
"I said I can't concentrate, you prat!"  
  
"Oh, and I thought you were the resident Potions genius," Harry mocked. "Surely you could do this assignment in your sleep."  
  
"I'm too hungry to work."  
  
The corner of Harry's mouth turned up in a half-grin. "Well, that's your own bloody fault. You said you weren't hungry at supper."  
  
Draco fidgeted. "I wasn't."  
  
Harry raised an eyebrow. This was interesting. "That was twenty minutes ago. If you're hungry now, you must have been hungry then."  
  
"Leave me alone, Potter." Draco tried to keep his voice neutral, but a loud rumbling noise from his stomach gave him away.  
  
Harry snickered at him. "So, you dug yourself into a hole there, Malfoy. Why the hell didn't you eat at supper? The Gryffindor food isn't good enough for you? Might be contaminated by Muggles?"  
  
Draco was going to make a snide comment, he really was, but the mere thought of food caused his painfully empty stomach to churn loudly again. Face pinched, he turned away from Harry and said something just too quietly for Harry to quite hear.  
  
"What did you say?" Harry went into his deaf-grandfather routine again, saying loudly, "My ears must really be going bad on me! Can't hear a word you said."  
  
This time, instead of snapping, Draco turned his head back to Harry slowly, with a pained expression. His voice was purely frustrated when he finally spoke, staring at Harry's shoulder. "I said, I'm right-handed. I can't write with my left hand..."  
  
"And you can't hold a fork straight either? Too embarrassed that you might spill food on yourself?" Harry laughed at him. This was too funny. He had control of Malfoy's strong hand. The boy couldn't even eat without his permission. He was about to make a comment about how he wouldn't be able to brush his hair properly in the morning when something in the Slytherin's expression stopped him cold.  
  
Draco looked resigned, forlorn even. His stomach growled again, and he turned his head away, staring at the fire.  
  
No mistake about it, Harry loved to push Draco's buttons. He adored watching anger contort the boy's face when one of his verbal punches struck its mark. However, here, where they were both stuck in the same place, under the same miserable conditions, where Harry would have liked nothing better than to take out his frustrations on Draco's sneering face, this seemed different.  
  
Harry knew what it was like to be hungry. His uncle Vernon had made damned sure that Harry had become very familiar with the sensation. It was a torment nobody should ever have to face. Granted, Draco had only missed one meal, but the loud growling noises from his stomach didn't lie. He actually was quite hungry, and Harry couldn't stand the idea that he would ever be the cause of someone's hunger. It was too cruel, even to someone like Malfoy.  
  
Gritting his teeth against the idea that he was actually about to be nice to Draco Malfoy, Harry said as neutrally as possible, "Want something to eat?"  
  
Draco picked his head up and stared at Harry in disbelief, which he quickly covered with a skeptical smirk. "And where the hell would one find food at this hour?"  
  
Harry hadn't expected any sign of gratitude from Malfoy, but it didn't matter. "Down in the kitchens," he said simply.  
  
"The kitchens?" Draco's lip curled up and his nose wrinkled in distaste. "But... the kitchen is only suited to servants! Why should I go there?"  
  
Harry had to restrain himself from slapping Draco's mouth for the derisive comment about servants. "Hey, it's your choice, but if you want something to eat, that's the only place to get it."  
  
Draco considered this carefully. Instead of quietly arguing with himself in his head, it was certainly better to argue aloud with Potter. "And if we went there, I'd run the risk of being seen with the likes of you by one of my house mates."  
  
Harry pursed his lips as he thought. Not that he wanted to be seen with the Slytherin either, but he also couldn't be seen sneaking into the kitchens. "Well, it's not like students are allowed in the kitchens anyway. If Filch caught us, we'd have detention for sure. We'd have to sneak down there without being seen."  
  
"Oh," Draco sniffed disdainfully. "And just how do you propose to pull off a stunt like that? As if you could."  
  
At this, Harry flashed a devious grin and stared at Draco, his eyes sparking with mischief. There was no way he would let a challenge like that go unanswered. If Draco hadn't known any better, just then, Harry's expression was the perfect model of a Slytherin. Draco found himself listening adamantly as Harry spoke.  
  
"I have my means, Malfoy. I've know a house elf that owes me a favour. I can get him to sneak up to my dormitory and retrieve..." Harry paused, appraising Draco carefully, as though deciding whether or not to fully divulge his secret. It might be fun, sneaking off around the school. He hadn't done it in a while, and it would be a fine distraction from the other stresses of the evening. Finally, he sighed and submitted. "It's not like you don't already know, because you saw it during our third year... I've got an invisibility cloak."  
  
Draco raised his eyebrows in surprise. It was cunning. It was clever. It was very Slytherin, and if nothing else, Draco was impressed. Not that he wanted to admit such a thing to Potter, of course. But could he trust the Gryffindor? If could be a trick, to lure him to where Filch could find him and then... wait, no. Harry couldn't leave him stranded, because they were stuck together. If one of them went down, the other went down, so Potter was sure not to try anything foolish. Draco felt his stomach rumbling loudly, and felt sure that if he didn't get something to eat that night, he'd pass out. The prospect of such a humiliation in front of Potter was more than enough to decide it for him.  
  
With a sharp nod, Draco allowed himself to mirror Harry's sly grin. "Let's do it."  
  
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A/N: Sorry it took me a couple of days to update. I'm currently working on two other major fanfiction projects. I'll admit, this one is only a relatively small project in comparison. If you really like this fic, and want to read some of my better work, go to my Fanfiction.net profile and help yourself! "The Potter Legacy" and "Eclipse" are my BIG projects, and the others are short stories. I plan to post more short stories soon, too, mostly about Harry and Draco. There's something for everyone!  
  
Thank you to EVERYONE who reviewed! It makes my day to get reviews, and it makes me want to write faster. It only takes a few seconds to type a quick review, and it means a lot to any author! 


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